The Law of Damaged Goods
by DarkPhoenix1987
Summary: When things get hard at home, Stiles becomes a escort to older men. When Peter Hale takes an interest in him things go from bad to worse. The only shining light is Derek, Peter's handsome and kind nephew, who treats Stiles like a person and not a hooker. But can love overcome such a hard situation? Could anyone really love Stiles now that he's damaged goods?
1. Chapter 1

Damaged Goods: (1) Goods subject to duties, which have received some injury either in the voyage home, or while bonded in warehouses.  
(2) A person regarded as inadequate or impaired in some way.

It started the way everything does, with an ending. As one phase of life passes another begins. Had you asked Stiles a year ago he'd be where he was now, he would have thought you insane. But life has a funny that way, one day everything was fine—he was a relatively happy high schooler—and the next the he knew he was being trotted around on a leash by some creepy old rich dude.

Stiles never imagined he'd be one of those people, the kind of people who have sex for money, but at some point it stops being about the sex and just becomes a matter of survival. Maybe he could survive without a cell phone or jeep repairs but without food? Or a house?

No, at some point minimum wage wasn't enough to even makes ends meet and one thing lead to another and here he was, walking around in his underwear with a collar around his neck and for what? A couple hundred bucks, that's what-enough to cover the mortgage and maybe the water and gas bills. A few hours a humiliation was worth it.

"Look at him Derek." Peter, the old bastard who'd paid for his services, commanded his nephew. Up until this point Derek had advertised his gaze, but stared up at his uncle's words. Those big green eyes bore holes in Stiles, made him weak in the knees. "Look at him." Peter cooed again, this time his breath on Stiles neck. "He's a whore Derek, damaged goods. He'll never be anything more."

Stiles bit back the bile rising in his throat. At this point he'd heard those exact words so many times he'd begun to believe it. How could he be anything more that what he'd become. Derek hadn't treated him like that. He'd been the only one to treat Stiles like a person and not a piece of meat.

Derek didn't say anything. "Look at his pretty face." One of Peter's hands cupped Stiles' chin. Stiles wanted to champ off one of his fingers, teach him a lesson. "Is this really what you want? My little boy toy as your own?"

Derek still refused to speak, his jaw set tight watching his uncle handle Stiles. "He does tricks you know. Show him Stiles."

Peter tugged on the leather strap for Stiles to kneel. Stiles stood strong against the pull. "Do it or you get nothing," Peter hissed in his ear. "Now be the good little whore and do your trick."

Stiles swallowed down his pride and fell to knees in front of Derek. He knew the routine. He reached for the zipper on Derek's pants. Derek stiffened under his touch but didn't stop him. Peter's hand forced his head down onto Derek. Derek let out a bucked and gasped as he entered Stiles' mouth. If this had been another time, another place Stiles would have done this willingly. That's how much Derek meant to him.

Their beginning was coming to an end. Anything they had would be lost after tonight. He would never look at Stiles the way he did. He would see what everyone else did: Damaged goods.

It started when the bills started to pile up. At first they were late notices but quickly turned into past dues and final warnings. The lights got turned off, then the water and gas. Soon the bank was threatening to reposes the house. Stiles father was too busy drinking to care about paying bills.

It wasn't his fault, the man was depressed, and who wouldn't be. Stiles needed him to be strong; they were both grieving in the worst way possible. But when Stiles found the darkness inside of him ebbing away his father let it fester and grow. He took to drinking to drown it out.

That when Stiles took matters into his own hands. The only problem was that the only jobs he could get paid nearly nothing, and between school and lacrosse practice he was perpetually exhausted.

It was Jackson who got him involved in the first place. Jackson- with his stupid perfect face, and stupid perfect car and stupid perfect life—who approached him that Friday after school.

"Hey Stilinski, I hear you're looking to make some extra cash."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do anything, except cleaning toilets. I do that enough at the movie theater and don't get paid nearly enough." That was an understatement. The theater worked him like a dog and only paid seven dollars an hour. Even if he worked full time his paychecks would be diddlysquat.

"Good, I'll come by and pick you up. We're going job hunting tonight."

Something in Jackson's tone gave Stiles the chills. Even more so was the fact that Jackson was offering help in the first place. Jackson had treated him like garbage up their whole lives. Why change now?

When Jackson said the words 'job hunting', Stiles assumed he meant turning in applications at the mall, not going to a gay bar.

"What the hell is this? I thought you were going job hunting, not getting our grove on at the sugar shack."

"Stilinski, shut your pie hole for one second and listen. Now this is job hunting. Remember how you said you would do anything?"

"Yeah but it's not like I can be a shirtless bartender. I'm pale and flabby."

"Not the job. Look, what if I told you there was a entire group of guys in there willing to pay your bills for you, all you have to do is spend a little time with them."

It took a small moment for what Jackson was saying to click. "Oh god, are you talking about screwing old dudes for cash? That's sick, and I'm pretty sure illegal."

"Not screwing, escorting. It's not illegal because they're not paying for sex; they're paying for your company. And it pays well." Jackson nodded his head towards his Porsche.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "Are you telling me some geezer bought you a car because you hung out with him for a few hours?"

"That an so much more."

That was tempting. That car must have cost almost two hundred grand. That was more than enough to cover bills for a long time. Enough that he wouldn't have to work at theater. Enough that he and his father wouldn't lose their house. "Okay… say I was interested, how do you know anyone's gonna wanna talk to me. I mean you're so… and I'm so…"

Jackson held back a laugh. "Don't worry, you're with me. So are you in or out?"

Stiles thought it over. He didn't have to have sex with these guys, only talk to them. It was kinda like he was the hot girl at the bar and every guy was going to buy him drinks. It didn't mean anything. "Alright, one time and if I don't like it I'm out of here."

Jackson smiled. "Believe me, you'll love it."

Jackson walked past the bouncer like he'd done this a million times, and he must have to get a Porsche out of the deal. When Stiles walked up the big gorilla bouncer stepped in his way.

"He's with me." Jackson yelled continuing into the club. The monstrous size guard stepped aside and Stiles scurried in after. Jackson walked through the club, all eyes on him. Guys and girls alike watched as he walked past the dance floor to the back of the club to the VIP section. Another bouncer stood guard. One look and he moved the velvet rope to sweep them in.

It wasn't what Stiles expected. He wasn't sure what he expected but not this. There were a lot of guys, a mix of young and old. The older guys all had drinks in their hands and sat around as the young guys walked around shirtless or in their underwear trying to get attention.

"Come on," Jackson said dragged Stiles through the crowded room towards a darkened corner. "Keep your mouth shut and follow my lead."

Jackson lead then to a small group of men sat. From the way they dressed to the their style, Stiles could tell they were different— The VIP's of the VIP. They were younger and much more affluent than the other men. Jackson stripped off his t-shirt before strutting up to them. They cheered and called his name, begging for him to join them.

"Welcome back." One guy greeted Jackson. He was much younger than the other, had to be in his mid thirties and handsome. He shouldn't be here; he should've been out there dancing with the other guys. "And, who's your friend?"

All eyes were on Stiles. One wrong step and Stiles would slip and fall on his face. "Boys, meet Stiles. Show him the same love you would show me."

"Stiles," The younger man crooned. "Such an interesting name for a handsome young man. Peter Hale." The man held out his hand and Stiles shook it. "Join us."  
Stiles took a seat next to Peter. The guy didn't even ask before pouring him a drink. Stiles wasn't sure what it was but drank it down anyways. It burned running down his throat and tasted like rubbing alcohol. "So how old are you Stiles?"

"Uh… Seventeen."

"Ah, seventeen, such a memorable time. You have your whole life before you. What brings you here?"

What was he supposed to say, that Jackson told him if he were nice enough some old guy would throw some cash his way. "Well-uh- my good buddy Jackson over there told me he was coming here so I figured I could join him."

Some of the guys were ballsy, running their hands along Jackson's toned chest and arms. Stiles felt insecure taking his shirt off. He wasn't fat or anything but skinny and white as milk. "Tell me," Peter said, his mouth getting close to Stiles ear. "Is this your type of club?"

Stiles was pretty sure the guy was asking him if he were gay. "You could say that, though I've never even kissed anyone beside my mom." A small pang rung out in Stiles' gut at the mention of his mother. It hadn't been that long but long enough that he missed her more than anything in the world. He wished he didn't mention her, he felt stupid, but Peter didn't seem to notice.

"You are a fresh one aren't you? Believe me when I say that sex is one of the few pleasures we get to enjoy as human. No other species has sex for fun, and there's so many fun ways to have it."

This guys voice was hot on Stiles neck, sending chills through his body. Virginity was something most guys tried to get out of the way as fast as possible but Stiles never saw it like that. He wanted his first time to mean something. He wanted his first time to be with someone he loved and who loved him in return. Sure maybe he could pick up some random dude, or hook up with Danny from school but it would be meaningless. He wanted it to be memorable.

"You don't say. I thought there was only way to do it."

Peter pour Stiles another drink. Stiles knew he shouldn't be drinking like this on a school night but something about this guy didn't rub him right. He needed it to loosen up. "Maybe if you're a repressed Catholic but you're a virile young man, you should be out there tearing it up while you can. Believe me, you'll be old and decrepit before you know it."

"You don't look that decrepit to me."

For a moment Stiles for sure Peter would take it the wrong way but instead he let out a hearty laugh. "Well thank you, but believe me when I say I look young for my age."

It went on like this for hours. From what Peter told him, he was a businessman and CEO of the Hale Corporation, a fortune five hundred company that specialized in herbal medicines. Peter then went to talk on about the medicinal benefits of mistletoe and mountain ash. Stiles had no idea what he was talking about but he nodded along and tired to keep his eyes open. The alcohol was hitting him harder than he thought and his eyelids were growing heavy.

"Well boys, I think I should call it a night." Peter said standing up and tossing some bills to the waiter who'd brought over a check. Stiles had never seen so many zeros on a bill but Peter didn't bat an eye. "It was nice meeting you Stiles. Perhaps our paths will cross again."

Peter shook his hand and in his palm, slid Stiles a wad of cash before disappearing. It ended up being two hundred bucks. Two hundred American dollars, and they weren't counterfeit. Stiles checked. If he had gone to his regular job, it would have taken him almost a week to make that.

If all the transactions went like this than he would be on easy street. Stiles went home and stashed the money away where his father wouldn't find it. The last thing he needed was his finding the money and spending it on booze. Stiles decided he would go back there. As long as the money kept coming he could hold a conversation. How hard could that be?


	2. Chapter 2

"Stiles," A voice called his name. Stiles stirred but wasn't sure where the voice was coming from. It was familiar but far away. It came over and over again. "Stiles, wake up."

Stiles jerked awake to find Scott, his best friend standing over him. "You feel asleep again. Class is over." Stiles looked around the empty classroom. Even the teacher had left. "Dude, you've fallen asleep almost every day this week, what's going on with you?"

Stiles stretched out his muscles, his neck had cramped. "I've been working late."

After his first encounter with Peter, Stiles had returned each night that week. After only a few days of talking he had made enough money to start paying off some of the bills. The banks and credit card companies were breathing down their necks. Things were still far from good but at least he could make minimum payments and still save enough for a rainy day. Sleep and school could be put off for now. At the rate he was going, he could get the bills under control with some spending money left over. Who knew it could be so easy to make so much cash so fast and without really having to do anything.

"You shouldn't have to work so much. You know, if you need help-"

"No, Scott, it's fine. I have things under control." There was no way Scott and his mom could help them, they could barely pay their own bills let alone Stiles' and his father's.

Scott looked like he wanted to protest but didn't. "You're my brother and i'd do anything for you, just remember that."

"Thanks Scott."

"I want to take you out to dinner." Peter said Friday night. The club was packed, even the VIP section was cramped to the point Stiles was crammed next to Peter, their shoulders and legs touching. "Would you escort me on Saturday night?"

If hanging out at a club and getting free drink netted him a wad of cash, then going and getting free food would make him bank. "Sure. Curly fries you on."

Peter chuckled. "Not what I had in mind but excellent, I'll pick you up your place."

"Uh, woah, no that's not necessary… I-I can meet you there."

Again Peter laughed, slipped Stiles his tip for the night along with a the name of French restaurant downtown. His Jeep was still out of commision. He could take a taxi or an Uber but it would cost him. It would be worth it to keep his dad from asking any uncomfortable questions.

Stiles definitely didn't belong in this restaurant. Everyone there was dressed in their best -suits and dresses- while Stiles came in jeans, a t-shirt and backwards cap. Even Peter in his tight jeans, fancy Italian shoes and v-neck shirt looked more dressed up.

The waiter sat them, his nose wrinkled up at Stiles clothing choice. But Peter didn't seem to mind. "A bottle of you best red."

"I don't understand a single thing on this menu, except for the prince." Stiles knew virtually no French aside from the fact that escargot was snails and that argent means silver, something that wouldn't come in handy at that point.

"Not to worry, this meal is on me. I suggest the bœuf bourguignon, it s a delicious beef stewed in red wine."

The waiter came back with a bottle of wine to so deep in color it looked like blood. Peter poured them each a glass, the waiter eyeing Stiles suspiciously but not daring to ask for an ID. Peter ordered them two bœuf bourguignons, the glass of wine sloshing around in his hand, looking ever at ease. Stiles had never had wine before and it turned out to be dryer than he expected, leaving a strange aftertaste on his tongue.

The food came arranged in an artful way, large chunks of beef sitting in a puddle of dark brown gravy, carrots and pearly onions. Stiles stuffed the food in his face, Peter watching with one eyebrow raised, sipping at his wine but not touching his food.

"Quite the appetite you have." Peter chuckles.

Stiles looked up with a mouth full of beef, suddenly aware he was eating like a beast. Stiles swallows and wipes his mouth on the napkin. "It's pretty good."

That was the understatement of a lifetime. Stiles had spent the last month eating fast food and between Big Mac's and Whoppers he's almost forgotten what non-processed food tasted. The only thing he and his father knew how to make was boxed Mac n' Cheese.

"Please, eat up." Peter pushed his own place towards Stiles, signaling for him to eat as Peter poured himself another glass of wine. "A growing boy needs to eat."

Stiles couldn't resist a ride home. When Peter had offered Stiles initially tried to resist but after Peter had flipped the bill- which was more than Stiles had spent on the gas bill- he decided it would be best not to rebuke Peter's generosity. Stiles father would be passed out at this point so he wouldn't ask any questions and the last thing he wanted to do was spend more money on a taxi.

Despite drinking nearly an entire bottle of wine, Peter drove his sports car with grace and ease. Stiles didn't think it would matter if Peter got pulled over and blew over the legal limit. The guy had so much money Stiles was sure he could afford enough lawyers he would never seen the inside of a prison cell. The thought sent a small chill down Stiles' spine.

"Here we are." Peter said as they pulled up in front of Stiles house.

Stiles relaxed as he unbuckled himself. "Can't thank you enough for the dinner."

Stiles goes to step out but the door is locked. "The pleasure was all mine, but there are many ways you can thank me."

Peter's hand squeezes Stiles thigh. For a moment, Stiles is frozen in place as Peter's hand trails up and cups Stiles' crotch. Stiles' heart beats loudly in his ear as Peter starts to lean in, the miasma of wine heavy on his breath.

"Woah dude," Stiles shifts away from Peter's touch. "Not really my thing." Sleeping with dude was totally Stiles thing, he'd know that since he was twelve, but had never had a chance to explore that side of him. The only guy that liked guys was Daddy and Daddy never showed an interest in him. What he wasn't into was sleeping with guys for food or money. Talk was fine, he wasn't doing anything, but the last thing he wanted to do was have his first time be with a guy old enough to be his dad.

A moment passed before Peter slid back into his seat. "Understood."

The doors unlocked and Stiles scrambled out of the car. That could have gone so bad, in so many ways, so fast. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Never get in a car alone with one of these guys.

"What the hell," Stiles slammed Jackson's locker shut. Normally he wouldn't have the balls to do something like that but after the previous night he decided to give jackson a piece of his mind.

"The fuck Stilinski, you almost slammed in fingers in the door. You mess up my hand and i'll mess up your face."

"Dude, did you know these guys expect sex for you? I went to dinner with Peter last night and he grabbed my junk."

Jackson looked at Stiles like he had grown a second head before snorting out a laugh. "You're kidding me right? You don't think these guys wanted to talk to you, did you? I didn't get a Porsche by using my mouth for talking. These guys are paying for a good time and it's you're job to make sure they stay happy."

"Yeah but you said there wasn't prostitution, you said they just wanted company."

"It's escorting, they are paying for a good time, but sex is usually implied." Stiles wanted to smack Jackson.

"I can't do that. "Maybe he should have read the fine print but this was not what he signed up for. He could stop at any time but the thought of going back to the movie theater and making minimum wage was dreadful.

"No one's making you do it, but if you don't, they'll find someone who will."

Stiles asked the question that had been bugging him for a week. "Why me? Why did you ask me to do this?"

Jackson shrugged. "Cause I'm getting out and Peter needs to someone to play with. Better you than me."

Something was different. Something wasn't right. When Stiles came to the club that night everything seemed normal; Peter was in the VIP section as usual but when Stiles came and took a seat next to him he barely paid Stiels on mind. Normally by now he would have shot him a lupin smile and poured Stiles a drink but this time Peter didn't even turn his head. His gaze was focused on a young guy dancing around in underwear so small it barely covered his junk. They ride low on his hips and he's shirtless, showing off his toned muscled body.

The guy is handsome and has a way better body than Stiles will ever have. "Oh hello Stiles," Peter says, as if he hadn't seen Stiles before this moment. "Have you met Theo?"

Peter gestures to the underwear-clad boy, who was shaking his ass to the music, catching all the guys attention. Stiles had known Theo, they went to school together but Theo was even younger than Stiles himself. Peters breath beat hot on Stiles ear and sent a shock of nastia through him. "He's really a nice young man, and so willing. You could learn a thing or two from him."

Stiles watched as other men run their hands down Theo's body before slipping bills into his too-small underwear. They grope at him, ravenous for his flesh, and Theo doesn't seem to mind at all. He loves the attention in a way that Stiles could never enjoy.

Stiles couldn't stand to watch it anymore. He left that night empty handed. Whatever power he had over Peter was gone. In the bathroom he splashed a puddle of cold water over his face, hoping this was all a dream and this would wake him up. He couldn't go back to minimum wage but was he really going to consider this? It was wrong and gross. But there was no other way. If he wanted to keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach he had to do what he had to do. Jackson was right, if he didn't than someone else would. It couldn't be that bad.

Theo was already there when Stiles arrived the next night, stripped down to his Calvin Klein briefs and dancing for Peter. Stiles took his normal seat at the right of Peter and watches as the younger boy moves, his muscles flexing in time with the music. Peter is enjoying himself, a smaling curling across his face like a snake ready to swallow Theo whole.

Stiles steels his spine and reaches over, his hand alighting on Peter's knee. That gets his attention and Peter looks at him, his eyebrows raised in a questioning look. Stiles swallowed down the hard lump in his throat and hoped that would be the only thing he'd have to swallow. His fingers trailed up until they found the zipper of Peter's dress pants and pull it down in one fluid motion. God, he was already hard from Theo dancing. But Peter's eyes are on Stiles now, his focus challenging him to continue. Stiles felt it pulse under his grip and cursed at himself to not back down now.

Stiles had been doing this to himself for years now, especially after he discovered internet porn. Being a teenager all he could ever do is think with that part of his body but maybe that was something guys never outgrew cause Peter certainly only thinks with his dick. This shouldn't be any different than helping himself before bed. He squeezes and rubs and Peter sits bad and enjoys. Maybe because it feels good but Stiles was pretty sure Peter was enjoying more of the fact that he got what he wanted. It doesn't take long before Stiles goes faster and Peter's breathing speeds up until the muscle in his jaw clenches and he finished. A thick glaze covers Stiles' hand and he had to urge to run to the bathroom to clean himself off but Peter grips his arm in a steel vice. "Clean it up."

It took Stiles a moment to realize what Peter wanted. Stiles made a show of it, putting each finger in his mouth and licking the goo from his hand. It taste salty and Stiles wanted to throw up but Peter gets a kick out of it. He unrolled a large wad of bills and tossed them in Stiles lap.

"This Saturday, come to my house. I'm hosting a pool party. Bring your swim trunks." With that Peter wicks away and Stiles is five hundred dollars richer.


End file.
